With a parting smile, Lois left Ronny and walked quickly to her dad's room as the anticipation welled inside her. She went through his door and saw him, dressed and sitting straight in his wheelchair. His paralysed hand lay in the trough connected to the arm of his wheelchair; his good hand rested near a book that was perched on some sort of stand.
He was reading.
Her dad was reading! Such a normal activity. Something he had enjoyed in his pre-stroke life. Something she had thought could have been gone forever.
"Dad," she said.
He looked up, and his face creased into a lop-sided approximation of a smile that shook loose her wad of tears.
Lois rushed forward to the chair and enclosed him in her arms. "Dad," she breathed, swallowing down her tears. "Dad."
Thanks!
Corrina.
